The Alpha King's Breeder
Aris, too, went through the ascension, taking a journey into those caves, and found the same mask I’m seeing, the same wrist armor bedecked in glowing jewels.
Their ancestors.
Another man checks the armor, his fingers bending the metal and adjusting the jewels with just a touch of his fingers.
“I wanted to be remade,” Hannibal whispers. “Only an alchemist can do it. My king wanted all the power. Only an alchemist can trap it. I tried to find them in your memories the day I took you, but you didn’t know, did you?”
My vision goes red–blood red–and I see Lexa in the arena, her hands bloody and eyes full of tears as she looks down at Kaleb, dead. Dead by her own hand.
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